


tethered to nothing (nothing but you)

by bellabeatrice



Series: Bella's Parkner Week 2019 [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Dancer Peter Parker, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellabeatrice/pseuds/bellabeatrice
Summary: Harley falls in love with Peter the first time he sees him dance. That boy cartwheeled his way right into Harley’s heart, and his world has never been the same since. Some days, when he thinks no one is watching, Peter still moves across the floor as if he’s flying. Hurricane Tortilla, Abbie used to call him. A force to be reckoned with. When Peter dances, all his worry falls away, and he glows.Harley wishes Peter could dance forever.God, how Harley wishes he could watch Peter dance forever.Parkner Week 2019 Day Seven: “Hurricane Tortilla” / Cartwheels / Angst





	tethered to nothing (nothing but you)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by _This Is Where It Ends_ by Marieke Nijkamp

Harley falls in love with Peter the first time he sees him dance. That boy cartwheeled his way right into Harley’s heart, and his world has never been the same since. Some days, when he thinks no one is watching, Peter still moves across the floor as if he’s flying. Hurricane Tortilla, Abbie used to call him. A force to be reckoned with. When Peter dances, all his worry falls away, and he glows. 

Harley wishes Peter could dance forever. 

God, how Harley wishes he could watch Peter dance forever. 

Instead, it is another Monday, and Peter holds himself ramrod straight. Harley is the only one who knows Peter will fly out of this cage and leave them all behind as soon as he can. 

Meanwhile, the next period is the last review for Harley’s AP Physics midterm, and he hasn’t even touched his books. Abbie had a flare-up last night, and Harley was up all night trying to keep the fever down. It didn’t go down, and Mama kicked him out of the house that morning to go to school. 

Harley can’t shake the feeling that Abbie is slipping away at a rate approaching the speed of light. 

Even worse, he thinks Peter is too. 

Peter stands up, groaning lightly as he does. He’s been practicing nonstop all year in the shed-turned-studio in Harley’s backyard while Harley helps fill out his applications. His heart is set on Juilliard. 

“Are you okay?” Harley asks, shoving his books in his backpack. It’s lunchtime, and everyone is practically running out of the classroom, but Harley lingers. 

“I…” Peter hesitates, biting down on his lip. Harley understands. It’s the two-year anniversary of Ben’s death, and it surely hits Peter hard. 

“You don’t have to be okay. No one’s going to judge you, least of all me.” 

Peter sighs and turns away to pack away his things. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Before Harley can reply, Ned appears at their side with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys, but I am so not looking forward to midterms.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not either,” Harley says, glancing at Peter. He’s tense, looking down. 

Ned laughs. “Oh shut up. _You’ll_ be fine.” Harley feels his face heat up. Sure, he’s a straight-A-student, but he works harder than people see for it, and with Abbie taking up his time, he’s not sure he’ll be as fine as people think he will be. He smiles tightly nonetheless, laughing along with Ned. 

“Midterms aren’t until next week. You guys will do great,” Peter pipes up. His smile is forced, and Harley wants nothing more than to take his hand and comfort him. 

“No stress? Lucky you,” Ned sighs. 

Peter shrugs. “I have better things to do than study.”

It makes Harley smile. “You’re a menace. How do I put up with you?”

Peter’s eyes say _because I’m yours_. His mouth smiles lightly and says, “Do you?”

Of course Harley does. He loves him. He never wants to let him go. 

“How was your break?” Ned asks, facing Peter. In another world, one with a happier Peter and a more carefree life, maybe Peter and Ned would be friends. Ned’s good for Peter, and it makes Harley smile. 

“It was fine. Didn’t study, that’s for sure. Didn’t really do anything, actually.” That’s a lie. Peter was at Harley’s house around dawn on Saturday, and he didn’t leave the makeshift studio until Harley chased him out just before midnight. 

“All weekend?” Ned says, leaning forward eagerly. 

Peter’s eyes dart to Harley’s questioning. Harley nods. Ned is good for Peter, and in another universe, maybe they’d be friends. “I found recordings of my parents’ auditions for the Royal Ballet.”

Ned’s eyes light up. “Were they good?”

It takes Peter by surprise. Harley can see it in his eyes and the easy way he smiles. Ned moved to Rose Hill at the beginning of the school year. He hasn’t heard Peter’s story yet. The tragic, tragic story. Peter’s parents were international sensations. The power couple of the dance world. They traveled the world together and danced at every great company. The truly endearing part was that they were a package deal. Neither of them took an offer if the other couldn’t come along with them. “They were amazing.”

Mary and Richard Parker died when Peter was four. He came down to Rose Hill from New York to live with his Uncle Ben and Aunt May. They enrolled him at the only dance studio in the area, a thirty minute drive away. Over the years, Peter became a star. He was one of three male dancers in the company but was the only principal. And he was only fifteen at the time. 

Then, Ben Parker died. May didn’t have enough money to pay the studio anymore, and Peter had to quit just as he was reaching the peak of his career. He still danced. Harley turned the shed in his backyard into a dance studio, and sometimes Peter would sneak into the school and dance in the music room. 

May doesn’t approve of Peter’s dream to dance. It’s more than a dream, really. Peter once told Harley that dance was his heartbeat. May, who became their little family’s primary provider, believes there is no money in dance. It crushes Peter to know his aunt doesn’t believe in him. It doesn’t matter, though. Peter won’t let anything get in between himself and dancing.

Dance is Peter’s ticket out of Rose Hill, and he deserves to be happy. Even though he could audition at places closer to home, he has his eyes set on his former hometown, New York. 

Harley and Peter both did, once. 

Harley’s fingers inch into his jacket pocket and curl around the admittance letter he’s been carrying around for weeks. 

Peter turns to Harley with an open expression. “What about you? Have you heard from NYU?”

Harley‘s breath hitches. “No, not yet.”

What can he tell Peter? That he has his own ticket out too, the one they’ve been longing for? That he can’t do anything with it? Before Abbie got sick, Harley would have leapt at the chance. He can’t leave now. 

Family once meant everything to Peter. Then, his family got torn to shreds. He would never understand. 

Harley lets go of the letter. 

Peter is following Ned to the cafeteria, and Harley hurries to catch up with them. He puts the letter aside in his mind. He has a few more months to decide, and maybe in that time, Abbie will get better. 

_Or maybe she’ll die_. Harley chokes on the thought, unbidden in his mind. _Her death will set you free_. 

“Harley?” He has just enough presence of mind to know that’s Peter’s voice, and he is hyperventilating in the middle of the hallway. People are probably staring, and he should probably get himself together. “Breathe with me.”

His lungs are burning, and he feels like he’s drowning. When Harley was five, and his father was still around, they went down to the gulf for a weekend. He was playing in the tide when a giant wave washed over him. It felt something like this. 

“Okay,” he chokes out. Peter has a hold on his elbow, and something in the back of Harley’s mind is screaming to shake Peter off. They can’t just do things like that at Rose Hill, but he’s also dying, so maybe it will be fine.

Peter starts talking, and his steady voice always brings Harley back to himself. “Mom did Medora from _Le Corsaire_, and Dad did Mercutio from _Romeo and Juliet_. They were both turners, just like me. A family of hurricanes. Mom was well-known for her fouette turns, but she always complained that she didn’t have any back flexibility. Ben used to say I must get it from my Dad. It’s such a shame that male acro dance isn’t really popular. There’s not a lot of good variations that feature turning and flexibility, especially for men. I was thinking of performing original choreography. I’ve been playing around with some ideas, but I haven’t found anything that speaks to me.”

“Actaeon.” Harley’s aware enough to realize that they’re in a classroom, away from everyone else. It helps him breathe a little easier. 

Peter smiles. “You just liked that one because I was shirtless. And practically naked, for that matter.”

“Fine. You caught me.” Peter looks gorgeous when he laughs, the way he leans his head back and looks so open and vulnerable. It’s rare that he laughs that genuinely anymore, so Harley soaks it all in with a bittersweet greed.

All Peter cared about was dancing. All he cared about was Harley. But he never told anyone about either. Too afraid Rose Hill might disapprove. Too afraid knowing his family, May, definitely would. Peter never lets on how he feels. No fear. No anger. No happiness unless he’s dancing. He used to be happy around Harley. Harley doesn’t know if that’s true anymore.

In a better world, Harley would tell the world about Peter. He would shout it from the rooftops, how amazing Peter is. How in love with Peter he is. 

Overwhelmed and against his better judgement, Harley opens his mouth to tell Peter that. To tell Peter he loved him. Instead, the door opens, and Mr. Meadows, one of the history teachers, walks in. 

“Boys, what are you doing here? Go on, it’s lunch time.”

“Yes, sir,” Harley mumbles instead. Peter follows him outside. 

“Is it alright if I come over after work tonight?” Peter asks. 

Harley nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your studio. Why do you still ask that?”

“You’ve been busy lately. I didn’t know if things have been bad at home or something.” Harley’s heart skips a beat. 

“No. We’re fine. Abbie’s got the flu or something, and I’ve been taking care of her.”

Peter’s eyes soften. “Let me know if I can do anything, alright?”

Harley wishes Peter could help. He wishes for any kind of help at all, but alas. Smiling carefully back, he says, “I think we’re good, but thank you.”

#

Peter’s late. That’s not normal. Harley might be freaking out just a little bit. He groans, slamming his pencil down and picking up his phone. Nothing from Peter.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Abbie says. She’s in bed, watching Harley attempt to finish the last of his homework. “Maybe something came up with May, and he can’t come tonight?”

“Yeah, but he’d let me know.” He shoots a quick text to Peter, the fifth in a chain of unanswered messages. “I’m going to the studio. Maybe he’s already there, and he just forgot to text me.”

Abbie looks out the window by her bed. It has a clear view of the studio, which is dark. “Okay. Take a jacket.”

“Call me if you need me.” Harley retrieves his jacket from Abbie’s bed under her pitying gaze and practically runs out of the house, slipping on a patch of ice in their driveway. The studio is still dark, and Peter’s not in it. Harley sends another text, sitting on the bench in the studio with a sigh.

There’s a sound outside, muffled by the howling wind. “Harley?”

“Peter?” Harley calls, running out of the studio. There’s Peter, leaning against the shed. His face is swollen, lip split, blood running down his cheek. Harley can’t see much else through the layers of clothing, but Peter’s favoring one leg. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you call me?”

“May took the car tonight, so I had to walk. Got jumped by a couple of guys at the bus stop.” Peter’s on the edge of tears, and he sounds so, so tired. Harley wants to scream. “I think my knee is dislocated.”

Harley’s heart stops. “What? No. Peter, that’s…”

“I know,” Peter whispers, and he’s really crying now. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Why didn’t you call the police? Or an ambulance?”

“They ran away. It wasn’t worth calling the police. And we can’t afford an ambulance. I was hoping you’d be able to help.”

Harley lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’m driving you to the hospital.”

“Thank you, Harley.” Peter grabs onto his arm, looking up at him with shining eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He swallows down a sob. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you either.”

Harley carries Peter to the car, buckling him into the backseat and propping his leg up. He gives Peter his jacket because he’s shaking like a leaf, and Harley doesn’t know what else to do. After sending a text to Abbie and calling emergency services, he drives off.

The car is silent, save for Peter’s quiet crying. Harley’s doing his best not to cry, focusing on the icy roads. “Peter?”

“Yeah, Harls?”

“It’s going to be okay.” He chances a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “No matter what happens, today or any day in the future, we’re going to be okay.”

Peter is silent. “Why didn’t you tell me about NYU?”

Harley nearly swerves. They’re lucky no one is really on the road this late. “What?”

Peter holds up the admittance letter with an unreadable expression. Fuck. Harley forgot it had been in his jacket pocket. “What’s this?”

“I was going to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because I can’t go!” Harley screams back. “I can’t go. Abbie’s sick. Like, might-die-before-she’s-twenty sick. I can’t leave her. Mom’s working all the time and can’t take care of Abbie, and someone needs to. We can’t afford in-home care.”

“But this is your dream, Harley. We were going to get out of here and start a new life in New York. A better life.”

“I know. I know, but I can’t leave Abbie.”

Peter stares at him through the rearview mirror. “So you’re giving up? Just like that, huh. You’re giving up everything you’ve ever dreamed of. You’re giving up on me.”

“No! I knew you wouldn’t understand, Peter.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to understand. You kept this a secret for how long?”

“Three weeks,” Harley whispers. “Peter, I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Peter snaps, slamming the paper down on the console. “I don’t want to hear it.”

They get to the emergency room and wait in silence. Peter starts crying again at some point, but when Harley reaches out to comfort him, he flinches away. It’s like a punch in the gut. Harley stops trying, just curls up in the waiting room chair and sticks around.

When they finally call for Peter, Harley can’t resist. He grabs onto Peter’s hand, forces the other boy to look at him. “Peter...”

Peter’s lips crash into his. In the middle of a half-full waiting room. In front of everyone. Harley doesn’t care. All he can feel are the unspoken words between them. In one kiss, he tries to tell Peter everything. That he’s sorry. That there are things they have to figure out. That they’ll do it together. That his heart belongs to Peter, if he’ll have it. It’s all he has to give.

“I love you,” Peter whispers, hoarsely. 

“I love you too.”

#

Peter is having surgery on his leg. His kneecap is shattered, and his ligaments are torn. He won’t go to Juilliard for his audition. He might not dance again, or he might work hard and try again next year.

Harley sits in his car and reads the NYU letter until the words are imprinted on his brain. They are tied to Rose Hill, and maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. They take root and blossom, but they never, ever leave.

Harley doesn’t know much. Not anymore, when his world his fraught with changing tides, uncertainty, and a tether to Rose Hill. He does know that he loves Peter, and maybe that will be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on Tumblr: @parknerplease


End file.
